Chapter 11: The Postman
Zhou Wan didn’t believe it at all and laughed as she spoke. “Want to bet on it?”
Ning Cai was a remarkably calm and rational person, with no interest in gambling whatsoever, so she changed the subject. “I heard that Young Master Qi recommended you for the official provincial government concert?”
The provincial government’s official concert was a small-scale charity event, with the audience all being influential figures within the system.
Although Zhou Wan was currently at the height of her popularity, she had made her name online and still carried the label of an internet singer.
But performing at this concert was a different matter entirely.
There would be no appearance fee for this kind of event.
Nevertheless, countless singers wanted the opportunity to perform there—even if it was just for one song, many would pursue it fervently.
The songs performed all had to be uplifting, praising heroes or admirable deeds.
“Qi Zhengqing mentioned it, and my agent is working on it. We’ve invited the hall-of-fame master Lin Dao’an to write and compose the song,” Zhou Wan said.
Ning Cai pondered for a moment, then spoke. “Qi Zhengqing is only using you for his own ends. Keep your distance. His reputation is terrible—he relies on his powerful father and hoards resources, but he’s ruined quite a few artists over the years. Many well-known singers have suffered because of him.”
Zhou Wan acknowledged with a sound. “I’ve heard about him. I’ll keep my distance. Besides, I’m only there to sing one song—he shouldn’t be able to get a hold over me, right?”
Ning Cai replied, “It’s best to be cautious. You’re making the shift from online to offline now—there can’t be any stains on your record. Any misstep, and you’ll never recover.”
Zhou Wan understood well. “I’ll have my agent handle the negotiations. As for Lin Dao’an, at worst we’ll pay a buyout fee. I won’t have direct contact with Qi Zhengqing.”
Ning Cai nodded. “By the way, who really is Qingqing’s father?”
Zhou Wan picked up her bag, ready to leave. “Didn’t we agree not to talk about that?”
Ning Cai looked at her helplessly. “Fine, fine. When things calm down in a few days, I’ll go visit Qingqing.”
Zhou Wan responded, “Mm. I’m heading out.”
...
After Shen Xian returned home, he opened the Original Music Base website.
The Original Music Base was established with approval from the national cultural administration, creating a healthy, positive environment for original music, promotion, and copyright protection. It attracted numerous online singers and gave music lovers a free platform to learn songwriting, instruments, and music theory.
The platform also offered services like on-demand streaming, search, downloads, interaction, song sales, and matching musicians with songs, giving artists a chance to showcase their talents.
Shen Xian browsed the interface, where many posts appeared.
“Looking for a traditional-style song, offering 8,000 yuan. Interested? Message me!”
“Selling a pop rap song—arrangement and mixing done by myself. Price: 20,000 yuan. Message if interested.”
“A heavy hitter in disguise, selling a pop song for 500,000 yuan. Interested parties, message directly. Full buyout, no credit!” A user named “Auntie Grip Player” had posted this.
A 999+ badge appeared after the post, indicating over 999 comments.
This was the hottest post, and the username showed LV5—five-star producer status.
New users started at LV1; to level up, one needed a certain number of high-value transactions.
This meant the person had sold at least thirty songs on Original Music Base!
Many top musicians were signed to companies, and their songs belonged to those companies, who then shared copyright profits.
But what if top musicians needed money?
They’d take on private jobs, selling songs anonymously on the platform—no attribution, no copyright, full buyout.
Currently, the site had hundreds of thousands of daily active users, but only a little over fifty LV5 producers, twenty master producers, and just five platinum musicians.
“Auntie Grip Player is releasing a new song, but the price is so high! I wonder who will buy it.”
“Who exactly is Auntie Grip Player? I’m curious which popular songs are his or hers.”
“Don’t ask. That’s their privacy.”
Many users chimed in.
Shen Xian glanced over the posts, then closed the page and began registering his own account.
Username: Postman.
But then he paused.
The registration page displayed: Username already taken, please choose another.
He did a quick search—there were at least a hundred related usernames.
Postman Y, Postman 520, Not the Postman, I Really Am the Postman, Postman 2024.
Shen Xian thought for a moment, then changed it to Postman Forever, and registration succeeded. Level LV1.
He then used this new account to post: “Selling a love song, ‘You Are My Eyes.’ Must be credited, no buyout; I retain all copyright shares. Lyrics, composition, arrangement, and mixing are all complete. Price: 3,000. Serious inquiries only!”
After posting, it attracted a dozen or so comments.
“Wow, a LV1 account dares to be so arrogant. The price isn’t high, but demands credit and full copyright share? Even five-star musicians wouldn’t dare ask for that!”
Full copyright share meant all income generated by the song would be split with Shen Xian—downloads, live performances, streaming, everything.
Normally, people got only half the copyright, meaning download revenue. Most musicians sold their songs outright or for partial copyright.
Full copyright share—this was the first time such a thing had appeared on the Original Music Base.
“Must be a joke. ‘You Are My Eyes’? What kind of ridiculous title is that?”
“This must be some hack trying to disrupt the market.”
“Fake Postman, get lost!”
Soon, his post was buried among countless others, never making any waves.
Shen Xian didn’t mind; this was simply a smokescreen, meant to prevent anyone from suspecting he was the real Postman.
If anyone ever asked Wang Tianqi where his songs came from, he could simply say his boss bought them on the Original Music Base.
He then posted two or three more times: “Desperate for cash, selling another song. Same terms, 3,000 yuan, already recorded. Money for music, fair trade!”
Unsurprisingly, these posts were also buried, making no impact.
After finishing, Shen Xian turned on his phone, only to see that Liu Ruyun was at it again.
#Liu Ruyun’s new song confirmed, official release in three days!#
#The new track is a love song, likely in preparation for the upcoming ‘I Am the Singer’ in half a month#
#This is Liu Ruyun’s first song after signing with her new company, as well as Chen Feng’s first official composition. We’re all looking forward to it!#